Homecoming 3
What had he said again?
I couldn’t remember.
Ah. Right.
He’d said he wanted to open a small inn.
He said he wanted to go back to those days when he worked as a boy servant, dreaming modest, ordinary dreams.
That was all.
He never told me any more stories about the old days.
Dead Uncle Man-seok, you see.
He’d probably pound the ground until his hands wore raw.
He’d cry until the brook swelled into a river.
But he hadn’t. The death of the uncle I’d treated like an older brother felt emptier than I’d expected.
Empty.
Was it because I hadn’t seen the slaughter with my own eyes? Because I hadn’t lived through it in my own flesh?
What was I supposed to do now?
I didn’t want to think anymore.
Ah.
It was sudden and out of nowhere, but I’d once wanted to ride a horse.
Not the way I was now, clinging to someone else’s waist, but actually holding the reins myself.
“Moo-ryang ajusshi.”
I spoke in a low voice. My hands were locked around Go Inspector’s waist.
Surprisingly, he knew how to ride.
We were following the black-clad Murim man leading the way ahead of us.
Never get involved in Murim affairs.
That had been Father’s warning.
“...Why?”
“What happens to us now? Me too, and the people at the worksite?”
“...”
Without meaning to, I fell into polite speech. I didn’t want to talk the way I usually did.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something so unnecessary...”
"...you know."
“Pardon?”
“New people will be dragged in and start the same day all over again. Like nothing ever happened. As if there was no tragedy at all.”
I could feel the faint tremor running through his back.
The ajusshi was probably crying.
“Us dying isn’t a big deal. Whether it’s a laborer or a skilled worker, even the manager himself, it doesn’t matter. There are always more lowborn to drag in for forced labor, more underlings to manage them. But even so...”
“Is it really right to kill people like this? Even if they’re powerful enough to rule over others, that doesn’t mean they have the right to harm the weak however they please. That has to be wrong.”
“This... this is wrong. The world is badly broken. In a world like this, I really...”
A drop fell onto the back of my hand where it was wrapped around his waist.
“I don’t think I can keep living.”
It was the bitter confession of a man facing a world rooted in injustice. The disgust of a person who knew he was still alive only by shameful accident.
Before long, he was sobbing out loud.
Not long after that, I realized his tears were falling more and more heavily onto my hand.
The man in black ahead of us didn’t look back even once as he rode on.
Again, reality came back to me.
The wretched reality of being dragged around by Murim men for the rest of my life.
“So-yeon...”
“Yeah.”
“Should I try running? Get caught and killed? Or maybe pick up a sword and wave it around for a bit...”
Go Inspector was no longer bothering to watch the warrior’s mood.
“Ajusshi, don’t think nonsense. Even if you’re sad, even if you’re in pain, even if you want to die, you have to live. Only then can you love.”
“What’s so great about love?”
“I don’t know. It’s something my father said.”
“...Sam-cheong old man said that?”
“Yeah. Every night, enough to make you sick of hearing it.”
After that, we didn’t speak again.
I let the knot of emotion inside me unravel. It was all the things I still couldn’t believe, my uncle’s death, the vague terror of the future.
Go Inspector seemed to be chewing over Father’s words. ...I only found out much later that he had hanged himself.
Time passed.
The escort who had led us all the way to the front yard of the house called for the master of the house. It was none other than that Banghosa bastard.
A huge man in blue silk came out wearing a look of giddy expectation.
Just from the way he talked, I knew it for certain. That bastard was the Banghosa.
I didn’t bother hiding my expression. I lifted my head and glared at him with every intention of killing him.
But the Banghosa didn’t care.
“My, my, you must have had a hard journey coming all this way. Now then, I’ve prepared hot bathwater for you. You need to wash the road dust off as soon as possible.”
“Sir, I...”
I turned my eyes away from him and toward the escort, wanting to hear no more.
“Where are you looking? You belong to your lord now.”
The warrior’s cold reply hit like a flying knife.
Yes, this was reality. That helped.
Looks like I was going to become that bastard’s plaything.
-
Bathing in hot water was a troublesome affair.
The crackle of firewood kept coming from outside without pause. Whenever the young maidservant, who looked about my age, remembered to, she came in and poured more hot water into the tub.
It was the kind of steaming bath I could never have imagined in Go-chon.
My uncle was dead. The villagers were dead. Even Jang Dae-bu had breathed his last beneath that bastard’s blade.
And here I was, dozing off in a warm bath.
The first comfort I’d ever known.
Mint leaves floated across the surface, giving off a fresh scent.
The bastard had clearly gone to some trouble.
Of course, I wasn’t fool enough to fall for this kind of sweet talk.
I need to find a way back to Go-chon.
But no useful plan came to me. I was just lost.
I gnawed at my lip, at a complete loss, my eyes darting back and forth.
It was an old habit of mine whenever I felt uneasy.
My wandering gaze eventually landed on the white clothes folded over the edge of the bath.
They were dry clothes to put on after washing, likely chosen to match the Banghosa’s taste.
And there was a hairpin. Not something that bastard had prepared, but the oak hairpin I’d always worn.
It was the one Mok-i had made for me back when I didn’t even have a proper hair stick.
Because it had been coated with lacquer so thoroughly, it shone with a polished gloss.
I’d been quite surprised. There were no lacquer trees in Go-chon.
Still, that was all it had been. I had been happy enough to sleep with it, but I hadn’t felt anything beyond the thought that I’d have to repay him somehow someday.
Only much later, after I’d learned enough to understand, did I finally realize.
That a hairpin given by a man could carry a great many meanings.
-
The maidservant came back in. She was wearing plain hemp clothes, and her eyes were neatly shaped.
I liked the innocent sweetness that showed through her full lips.
“You can stop now. I’ll be out soon.”
She hurriedly poured water before it could cool, but in the end she didn’t answer.
She only tilted her head and stared at me in silence, looking rather flustered.
Then, in that awkward stillness, the bathhouse door was thrown open.
A cold draft swept in, scattering the steam.
A woman stood motionless outside the door, weighed down with gaudy ornaments I couldn’t even begin to list.
She wore an elaborate wig and jade hairpins.
Her vermilion silk skirt was hung with little sachets that gave off a sweet, cloying scent.
One look, and I knew. This was the kind of woman you wanted no part of.
Forget the murderous glare she gave me—just looking at her made me dislike her. She looked like nothing so much as a hen strutting around with a peacock feather she’d found on the ground.
Silk is the product of exploitation.
That thought flashed through my mind all at once. Something Father had said long ago.
With apologies to whoever had to hear it, the process of making silk goes like this.
Silkworms eat mulberry leaves and spin cocoons, then they’re thrown into boiling water and boiled alive.
After that, the thread is unwound one strand at a time and wound around a loom.
The scraps left behind—the insects themselves—are fed to livestock.
...Who knew how many of those creatures had gone into a single outfit like that?
I wasn’t all that different.
Right now, they were feeding me mulberry leaves too.
“Hmph. Acting all high and mighty in front of a deaf girl who can’t even hear a thing.”
“What?”
“What? You little brat, don’t tell me you can’t even tell your betters from your inferiors?”
Slap!
It stung. My cheek burned red. It was a sharp, bitter slap that suited her vicious face perfectly.
The maidservant who had been watching froze in shock and stumbled back.
With one wave of the woman’s hand, she practically fled from the room.
Anger surged through me, but I forced it down.
At the very least, I had to be careful not to drag harm onto the people left behind in Go-chon.
Of course, if I wanted to, I could kill that bitch.
Even so, I chose to listen in silence.
If you rummage through trash, sometimes you find something useful.
I needed to get information from her mouth.
I cooled my heated head and began following the thread of my thoughts more carefully.
Judging by her appearance, her background was obvious.
She was almost certainly the Banghosa’s woman.
And from her shabby face and venomous tongue, she was clearly an unloved wife.
“Hmph. So you know where you are and you still try to act coy? You filthy little whore with no parents to speak of.”
...If the chance ever came, I would make her suffer worse than death.
“You wretched thing, no better than a dog. You think I don’t know what you’re after?”
I kept listening in silence. I had to, for now.
“You’re thinking of selling your body in Hongru to make your living, aren’t you? Wiggling your tail at that man, spreading your legs, sweet-talking him...”
The woman spat on the floor, making a phlegmy, grating sound.
“Tch. A filthy rag who can’t even be a proper concubine! And you think I’ll just sit here and watch? Bring as many as you like. You, and the ones after you. Whoever comes, I’ll kill them all!”
I suppressed my anger by forcing my mind into cold observation.
-You’re thinking of selling your body in Hongru to make a living.
-Whoever comes, I’ll kill them all.
The shape of it was becoming clear.
That woman had been killing the consorts brought here.
So the Banghosa bastard was selling off the women he dragged in to brothels in order to keep them alive.
They were made for each other. Husband and wife, both the same kind of bastard.
For a moment I found myself curious how many people she’d killed, but I quickly let the thought go.
It wasn’t important. There was only one thing I wanted: a way back to Go-chon.
After what felt like an eternity of hearing things I didn’t want to hear, she finally left, having spat out enough worthless abuse to last a lifetime.
After the commotion died down, the water resumed its quiet sound.
The Banghosa intended to turn me into a courtesan.
And that wife of his wanted to kill me outright.
“Ha...”
I stared up at the rafters, where droplets of water had gathered into beads.
I didn’t want to think anymore.
By then, the maidservant’s presence had vanished as well, whether she’d run off or not.
When the rippling water finally started to blur my thoughts, I dried myself off and put on the clothes.
-
Outside the bathhouse there was a courtyard of moderate size.
Led by the escort who had brought me here, a group of Murim men who looked like guests, loafers, or both were killing time in the garden.
I could feel their eyes on me.
They seemed to be glancing toward the Banghosa’s mood, holding back their words while openly running their eyes over me with leering, brazen curiosity.
He’d said to come straight to the inner house once I was done washing.
I had no choice but to move my feet.
I could imagine the filth they were thinking, but I didn’t even want to start imagining it yet.
It was terrible beyond words. Even if I had the strength, I still had to endure.
No, that was nonsense. I didn’t have strength at all.
If I had, I wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place. I would have done something—anything—to save Uncle Man-seok and Jang Dae-bu.
Self-loathing led the way, and behind it came a whole train of torment and useless thoughts. But then—
I have to endure.
I clenched both fists hard.
It was the emblem of my resolve to keep going anyway.
For Father, and for the sake of the people of Go-chon.
Rattle—
I opened the door.
The Banghosa bastard was sitting there in full lotus position.
It was a less impressive room than I’d expected.
If anything stood out, it was the enormous double-bladed axe mounted diagonally on one wall.
Judging by its absurd size and length, it didn’t look like something meant for battle.
I imagined it. I imagined taking that axe and splitting the bastard’s neck wide open, and the thought was satisfyingly vivid.
But whatever.
He lifted narrow eyes with a look of studied refinement.
“You took your time. Come, sit down here.”
I pressed my lips tightly together and cautiously sat beside him.
I was barely holding back the urge to retch. Just hearing him breathe made my skin crawl.
All I wanted was to empty my stomach as fast as possible.
“Mm-hm. So, I hear you’re quite strong.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Heh-heh, my, my. I suppose you’re still too young to know better. Right now, you are your older brother’s...”
At that moment, a sudden commotion erupted.
The sound of warriors murmuring came from beyond the paper windows.
I opened the door and checked what was happening.
It was an impulsive act, one that didn’t spare the Banghosa a single thought.
Unexpectedly, he remained silent. He didn’t stop me as I slipped out through the doorway.
He seemed curious too, about what had happened.
It was Mok-i.
“Hey. Who’s that kid?”
“What the hell is he doing crawling in here?”
“Noona, So-yeon noona!”
The black-clad escort who had been watching drew his sword.
-
The die had been cast.
It tasted raw.
I spat out the profane chunk of flesh I’d bitten off with all my strength at my feet.
“Aagh!! G-g-guh...”
I felt as if I were standing in the heavens.
I felt nothing but rage and fear. Yes.
I had painted the bastard’s delusion with blood.
“Shit... Shiit—!!”
“Why, wasn’t this what you brought it out for?”
“Khh... Come here. I’ll tear those tits off and kill you right now!!”
Blood dripped from between his legs as he struggled to get up.
Then a thin mist began to gather around him.
I didn’t know the details, but that was probably the inner power Murim men spent their whole lives refining.
His eyes had definitely gone wild.
He hurled a fist the size of my face straight at me without hesitation.
His clothes warped in the force of the wind, a domineering strike that cared nothing for smashing furnishings apart.
And yet.
Momentum is not the measure of the world. He didn’t know that.
He was being devoured by blind rage, leaving openings all over the place.
Not a precise martial art at all, but more like the desperate thrashing of a four-legged beast.
“Y-you little—! Kraaagh!!”
The energy packed into his fist churned violently. The flow of power surged like a mad struggle to break free.
But it was useless. I’d already seen through him in that one exchange.
He wasn’t on my level.
Father had said that even among Murim men, there were ranks.
“Hah, so you’re just stupidly strong. But that doesn’t mean—!”
His fist was caught in my small grip.
The Banghosa, unable to shake it loose at last, drew the double-bladed axe with his free hand.
At least he had some diligence to him; the sharpened edge gleamed.
Whoosh!
The instant I sensed his movement, I put force into my shoulder and shoved the fist I was holding aside.
A piercing burst of air rang out in answer.
He staggered, but regrettably, he held on. The axe’s weight had anchored him to the floor.
The Banghosa bared his eyes like a rabid dog.
Without giving him time to catch his breath, he swung the axe down over my head.
Of course, that was within expectation. In fact, I had intended to use that very attack as my opening.
Dodge by a hair, seize the shaft, and strip the weapon from him.
The difference in raw strength had already been settled, so that strategy guaranteed victory.
But, more than I’d expected.
It was slow. The falling blade looked far too sluggish.
After all, it was the cost of wrenching into use an ornamental axe that had never been meant for battle in the first place.
Because it was so heavy, his stance had broken apart.
Thud.
My judgment had been right. An image flickered through my mind—that maybe I’d been born not for drudgery, but for battle.
I didn’t even need to dodge. I could simply reach up, catch the shaft, and seize the weapon.
Then—
Fwoosh!
I liked the light heaviness of it. It felt like obtaining a dependable husband.
From now on, you’re not decorative anymore.
“Damn it! J-just wait—! Don’t do this, let’s talk—!”
The look on the bastard’s face, robbed of hope, was worth seeing.
I almost wanted to ask him how it felt to be the one getting stripped bare.
Whoooosh—!
It was only a test strike.
“Keh, k-kh...”
The room shook hard.
The axe’s path came down.
On the floor lay a dresser, a bed, and one half of the Banghosa’s body.
Just then, the door opened.
The ruffians who had killed Mok-i without so much as changing expression were already drawing their swords.
Their startled faces were almost amusing.
Two, four, six...
And yet look.
“Hm. Twenty-seven?”
What could a handful of rabbits do against the mountain king?